


All Roads Lead to Home

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Romance, Families of Choice, Mages, Mercenaries, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sieges, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 02:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17256020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: War is brewing between Gotham and Metropolis and Jason, leader of theRed Hoods, returns home for the first time in a decade. Things have changed, mostly with the presence of Timothy, one of the most powerful mages in all the lands, standing by High Prince Bruce's side. The mage and the mercenary must learn to work together to save Gotham and, in the process, become something more.





	All Roads Lead to Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exiled-one (mistralle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistralle/gifts).



> This is my not-so-Secret Santa gift for exiled-one! Thank you for the prompts and all the ideas; I've chosen my favorites and woven quite the tale for you!
> 
> The rating on this fic will possibly change once all the JayTim goodness really starts up; I haven't decided yet.

A cool breeze blew in off the river, a slight tang in the air from the seas beyond. For once, the day was clear and bright, even if that fact seemed to escape the city below, blanketed in a perpetual haze from burning oil and peat. It was a city of extremes, boiling hot in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter, with rampant crime warring with good solid folks who just wanted to make a living. To outsiders, there was no clear reason to want to stay, while the inhabitants couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. 

It was Gotham, so that meant keep your coins close and a dagger ready at hand. 

Atop a hill overlooking the city, Jason sat astride his horse absorbing the differences a decade had wrought in his old home. He was one of the few who managed to escape the clutches of the world below and here he was, returning so that he could defend it.  
  
Time had not been kind.   
  
Or rather, war.   
  
For almost three years, tensions between the city-states of Gotham and Metropolis had been near boiling points as the two rulers butted heads. Occasionally, this erupted into actual skirmishes along their shared borders, but this was the first time High Prince Bruce issued a general call to arms, calling on his sworn lords and allies to honor their oaths of fealty and send soldiers. Old fortifications were clearly being reinforced, but it was hard to say if they would be enough. The city itself sat upon three large islands in the middle of the Gotham River while the main keep of Wayne Castle sat on the bluffs of the eastern shore. There was very little work going on there, which wasn’t surprising considering what Jason remembered of his prince.   
  
He’d do everything in his power to protect his people rather than himself, a stance that endeared him to his subjects and was a strong source of vexation for the nobility, especially the ones who had their eye on the throne.   
  
Jason snorted derisively. That logic was all well and good for an idealist, but the keep was a symbol and if it fell, then Gotham was as good as gone.   
  
Beside him, Artemis sidled up alongside his horse, guiding her own with only her knees. “Fond memories?”   
  
“There is no such thing as a fond memory of Gotham.”   
  
“You used to live here, yes?”   
  
“Yeah. Was a palace guard for a time.”   
  
Perhaps the only good thing that had ever happened to a street urchin like him. His daring to steal the Prince’s horse had not landed him on the chopping block where his right hand was forfeit. Instead, Prince Bruce took him in, educated him, gave him training that would have qualified him to be a knight if he’d so chosen. Jason firmly believed that nobody’s like him did not deserve that kind of honor and so he rose through the ranks of the palace guard and became the youngest ever captain.   
  
To rise so far and so fast only meant his fall from grace was just as swift.   
  
But to this day, Jason did not regret killing the madman known as the Joker. He’d saved not only Prince Damian, but also Princess Talia. The Prince’s orders had been to capture the man alive at all costs but Jason, he’d been left with no choice. It was kill or be killed and while he himself had been seriously injured in the encounter, his liege did not see it the same way. From his sickbed, he’d heard the Prince informing the healer Leslie that he wished the Joker was still alive, that they’d been able to determine who had sent him.   
  
Not a word was said about Jason’s state, about the long burning cut from the Joker’s poisoned blade and the eye he’d nearly lost from it. None of his fellow guards came to visit him and he was given a single perfunctory visit from Lord Gordon once his fever had subsided enough to where Leslie even allowed him visitors where he was interrogated thoroughly over his actions.   
  
Jason didn’t ask to be a hero, but he also didn’t expect to be treated like the villain. As soon as he was physically able, he’d left Gotham, foreswearing his oaths and taking to the road to sell his sword where he may.   
  
Artemis nodded thoughtfully, the sunlight glinting on her long red hair. The barbarian woman towered over him on her horse, her clear gaze picking him apart. All the women in his little band of mercenaries did this to him. It annoyed him at first, but soon enough, he learned to appreciate it as it meant they cared.  
  
“I thought you were banished.”   
  
Jason scowled. “Who told you that?”  
  
“Dick.”  
  
His scowl grew. Dick was the first person he met on the road, a former acrobat from one of those traveling circuses. The man was gregarious to the extreme, but his temper was incendiary when provoked. He was also fantastic in bed, something Jason very much needed at the time, which probably explained why the man knew so damned much about him. It was either sex or booze and neither of them had the coin all that often for the latter.   
  
“That’s not quite what happened,” Jason said, wishing his former lover was present so he could shove a boot up his bendy ass. “It was more along the lines of banishing myself before it could be done to me. Dickie’s just being a storyteller if you’ve heard otherwise.”   
  
The barbarian thumped him upside the head. Lightly, because she could easily knock him from his horse if she did it any harder. “Perhaps I did misunderstand the tale as this language is not my own. But we all know returning to Gotham is hard for you, that you are risking your life for a duty you cannot leave behind. This is honorable and as our leader, your honor is ours, so we support you in this.”  
  
Jason was pretty sure Roy and Stephanie didn’t see it that way, that they’d both tell him their loyalty was to their purses first and to him second, even though they all knew that to be patently untrue. Cass and Kori were hard to tell, while Dick would laugh and say he’d lost his honor along the side of the road before they’d even met. That was a lie, Jason could not think of a more honorable man than Dick Grayson. And Biz...well, the poor berserker didn’t have a lot going on in his head outside of battle beside his Pup-Pup and braiding Kori’s and Steph’s hair. Preferably with flowers when they were available.   
  
“Even if it gets you all killed?”   
  
“We are mercenaries. What else is there for us except the chance to restore our honor through battle?”    
  
He could think of a lot a things. A warm fire. A mug of mulled wine and a place to put his feet up. Books. Damn, but he missed reading. It was a luxury he couldn’t afford here on the road unless they got lucky and were guarding a merchant train where one of the traders felt generous enough to let him have some time with the merchandise.   
  
But this wasn’t what Artemis wanted to hear. “I suppose you’re right,” Jason offered, and tugged on the reins so that his horse turned around to head back down the road and back to their camp. “I need to talk with Steph before we head into the city.”  
  
“Why is that?”   
  
“Because when we enter Gotham, it won’t be with me as your leader. It’ll be with her.”   
  
~*~*~  
  
“I still think you’re being stupid about this.”  
  
Jason side-eyed Steph as they rode up the steep slope toward the castle. Behind them, smoke smudged the sky from the city below. The Red Hoods had taken rooms at an inn, mostly for an excuse to sleep in a real bed and eat a hot meal that none of them had to cook over a campfire. He and Steph made quick use of the baths as well, washing the stink of the road from their hair and skin. They needed to put their best foot forward, and not look like disreputable bandits.   
  
“I’m being cautious,” he stated. “I left under what I know now were less than ideal circumstances. I’m technically a deserter. So, if I’m going back in there,” he pointed to the sheer walls of granite above them, “it’s by using a disguise.”  
  
“Not much of a disguise,” Steph snorted, her blue eyes dancing with laughter. It seemed to be her favorite pastime, making fun of him.   
  
Jason glowered, knowing she was right but unable to do anything about it. He was banking on ten years, a week old beard, and an eye patch to disguise him from two men who knew all too well the sound of his voice. The Joker’s dagger had gifted him with a tuft of white hair at his brow and a long scar that cut through his eyebrow and over his left eye, leaving him with an orb of cloudy white and blue that saw things no mortal man ever should. A priest said he was god-touched now when Jason spent the coin to find out why he was seeing dead people and other spirits.   
  
God-touched, his ass. More like cursed, which seemed to be in line with his brand of luck.   
  
At least the eyepatch helped. It was rare that he went around without it on.   
  
“Just stick with the plan and we’ll be fine.”   
  
Steph tossed her head, her long golden mane flying around her. Against the stark red of her hooded cloak, it stood out.   
  
Jason cinched his own red cloak closer as a gust of wind tried to whip it away. The signature of the Red Hoods, their brilliant scarlet cloaks, it helped to ensure their reputation spoke for them when entering into a contract. He prayed that Stephanie would sell it. Most often, it was him that negotiated with their prospective employers. On the rare instances where he wasn’t able, Dick took over.   
  
This was the first time Steph was stepping into the role. She was his quartermaster though and their purse was held in her hands. Everything from rations for them and their horses, to weapons and repairs to their armor was reviewed by her and she drove a mean bargain. There wasn’t a doubt in Jason’s mind that she couldn’t do it, but he did wish they’d had a chance for a trial run first. But they’d been fresh off their last contract when he heard what was brewing here in Gotham, so time wasn’t their friend.   
  
“Jason,” Steph asked quietly, her demeanor subdued, which was unusual for the normally bubbly blonde. “Why is this so important? You left Gotham behind, just like I did. This city could rot for all I care, but you? You’re dragging us back here for what?”  
  
The two of them were the only Gothamites of the band. He’d been hoping she still had some residual loyalty to their old home, but apparently, he misjudged that. Jason sighed and wanted to kick himself. He should have known better. Of all people, Stephanie had no reason to love this kingdom. It had chewed her up, taken away her child, and spat her back out, sending her spiraling until she’d been sold into slavery and sent far away. Ultimately, she’d met Cass, the former assassin who vowed never to kill again. Together, they’d saved each other and by the time Jason met them, nothing could drive a wedge between the two.   
  
“I guess it’s because I still believe in Prince Bruce,” Jason said slowly, thinking over his words carefully. “While there’s a lot of shit that goes on beneath his nose, if he does get wind of it, he’ll put a stop to it. He believes in justice, as well as little things like basic human decency, which I sure as fuck know Alexander Luthor doesn’t.”  
  
Steph nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Fair enough. Okay, Captain, I’ll do my best then.” She then grinned wickedly. “This is gonna be awesome.”  
  
Jason knew he was about to be raked over the coals with little orders he’d be expected to obey, but whatever. He could deal.   
  
At the gates, they stated their business and waited as the guards sent a runner to confirm if they should be allowed entry. Mercenaries weren’t exactly common in these parts and while Luthor had no qualms about using them as cannon fodder, Bruce was a different matter. He didn’t like to use them at all, preferring people that had loyalty to him and to Gotham rather than to the coin in their purse.   
  
Not for the first time, he wondered why the hell he was going to all this effort for a home he’d left behind. He was lucky the others didn’t send him packing, not that they would. Roy often said they were more of a family than a band of mercs, and the archer wasn’t all that far off from the truth.   
  
The runner returned, breathless. “His Highness will see you,” he announced.   
  
Jason was willing to bet a silver that it was curiosity more than anything that got them inside the gate.   
  
They rode into the keep, stopping at the inner courtyard to dismount and leave their horses. Another guard in immaculate black armor met them to guide them inside. Jason was pleased to see his former unit still maintained an air of professional pride, one that Lord Marshal Gordon had instilled in him. Idly, he wondered who their captain was now.   
  
Inside the castle, they were passed off to another guard who led them down an achingly familiar corridor toward the throne room. They came to a stop in the antechamber, which was surprisingly empty for this time of day, revealing how affairs of state had shifted to preparations for war.   
  
The guard spoke to a majordomo Jason recognized as one of Steward Alfred’s underlings. “The mercenaries are here to see the High Prince.”   
  
Jason shared an amused glance with Steph. It was clear everyone here knew who they were, but some things never changed and that was pomp.   
  
The majordomo, whose name Jason couldn’t remember even though his pointy nose stuck out in his memory, sniffed. “Your swords are to be left out here,” he stated in a nasal voice.   
  
“Just our swords?” Steph asked archly. “We do have other weapons besides those, you know.”   
  
“Just your swords,” the man repeated disdainfully.   
  
That was stupid, but Jason bit back his retort. This wasn’t his place, not anymore.   
  
The doors creaked open and the man announced in a louder voice, “The Red Hoods.”  
  
Entering the throne room, the wave of nostalgia grew. He’d patrolled these halls, stood guard during meetings and other important audiences. Hell, he’d even had his first kiss in here, hidden away behind a tapestry during the grand ball celebrating the High Prince’s marriage to Princess Talia. And now, here he was, a stranger.   
  
That was okay. It had to be okay because what else was there for someone like him?   
  
On the dais at the far side of the room sat the High Prince of Gotham, Bruce Wayne. He’d aged since Jason last saw him, more lined and silver in his raven black hair, but his gaze was still crystal clear and just as hard as he stared down the two mercenaries crossing the room in even strides.  

Beside the throne stood a black-haired young man, lean and with hands bedecked in more silver rings than a noble woman. At first glance, he seemed vaguely familiar. Beneath his patch, Jason felt his cursed eye stirring to life, similar to how it did around Kori when she was working her magics. A mage then, and a new addition to Gotham’s court. Small wonder only their swords had been taken away.

Stephanie and Jason stopped at the end of the long rug and bowed their heads respectfully. Jason was surprised to find the instinct to bow even deeper was still strong within him, despite a decade having passed since the last time he did. 

“Your Highness,” Stephanie said, speaking up in a voice that was all lower Gotham, something that Jason hadn’t thought to ask of her. “I give you my greetings and those of my band of merry men. I am Stephanie, captain of the Red Hoods.”  

“I thought the Red Hoods were led by a man,” Bruce stated, his tone level as he took on what Jason recognized as his interrogation face. 

“We rotate it out,” Steph replied blithely, lying through her teeth. “Except for Biz. If he tried, we’d be rescuing puppies for free.”

The mage cracked a small smile, not trying to hide it in the slightest. He did seem familiar, which was going to bug Jason until he could place him. They didn’t work with other mages too often as Kori packed more magic into one strand of flaming hair than most people did in their entire bodies. 

“The Red Hoods have quite the reputation, so I can see how that wouldn’t do you any good,” the Prince said plainly, his gaze flickering between Steph and Jason before settling back on Stephanie. “What brings you to Gotham?” 

“There are rumors of war between Gotham and Metropolis. Thought you could use a hand.” 

“There are always rumors of war.” 

“Enough to make you reinforce the walls around the city and call citizens in from the countryside? Excuse me, Your Highness, but you’re preparin’ for a siege. Hunkerin’ down and buryin’ your head in the sand.” 

That wasn’t too far off from what Jason would have said. Sometimes Bruce needed to be poked with a stick to force a reaction. 

The Prince didn’t even flinch. “Be that as it may, it doesn’t explain why you’re here. I did not summon mercenaries to aid Gotham and I have a policy not to hire them, even guild recognized ones like yourselves. We take care of our own.” 

“So I’ve heard, but there’s a couple of us with ties to this city. Thought perhaps you’d make an exception. After all, we do have a reputation.” 

“It’s your reputation that got you in the door in the first place. Call it curiosity, but I fail to see what eight men and women can do when we’re facing an army that will swell to a thousand or more.”

“And ships,” the mage chimed in, speaking up finally. “Metropolis is going all out this time.” 

“Timothy, hush,” Bruce said warningly.

Jason bit his tongue, recognizing the mage now. They hadn’t met, but he had seen him from a distance a couple years ago working alongside Kori before she’d joined up with them. Timothy wasn’t just any mage, he was a dragon-lord, one of those rare human mages whose abilities were equal to or greater than the most powerful mages in the world – the dragons. 

What the fuck was he doing in Gotham? For that matter, how was Bruce even paying him? The services of a dragon-lord did not come cheap and with all the other preparations for war, Wayne Castle’s coffers had to be low. Crap, even if the Red Hoods did get hired, it would be for far less than they normally accepted. It didn’t bother him, but the others may not be so happy about it.

Stephanie’s expression grew hawkish, sensing her advantage. “Your Highness, we are eight men and women with some rather interesting talents that I doubt you can lay claim to.”

“Name one,” Bruce challenged. 

“Got a sapper?” 

This was actually Jason’s particular talent. Sure, he was a swordsman of some considerable skill, but his true gift was, as Roy put it, blowing shit up. Not long after he met Dick, they’d happened upon a sick and injured woman with a very interesting travel-box full of different powders. As they nursed her back to health, sharing what little they had with her, she returned the favor. Turned out, she was a former sapper who now plied her trade building and selling fireworks. Jason took to it like a duck to water, much to Dick’s amusement. They ended up wintering together and by the end, not only did he have a new skill, but also eyebrows that had been burned off half a dozen different times.

Despite himself, Bruce appeared intrigued. “That’s someone who uses munitions for an explosion rather than magic, right?”

Timothy nodded in agreement. “I remember that the Red Hoods utilized one. He took down an enchanted bridge that magic couldn’t touch but common pyrotechnics did. I wanted to speak with him afterward, but never had the chance. Is he still with you?”

Jason remembered that damned bridge. It had been almost embarrassingly easy to destroy since none of his materials required magic to ignite. Too bad he hadn’t had a chance to meet Timothy before this, he looked like someone that would be interesting to share a pint with. Then again, if they had, then this conversation would be going in a completely different direction.

“That’s right, Your Highness and yeah, he is.” Stephanie gave no indication that said sapper was standing beside her. “We’ve also got a battlemage, but somethin’ tells me this other guy here is one of yours.”

“That would be correct,” Bruce replied.

“Did Koriand’r join you, then?” Timothy asked, cocking his head to the side. “She was rather enamored with one of your men from what I recall.”

“She did,” Stephanie answered, nodding. “And it wasn’t one man, it was two. Our saboteur and our archer. Can’t have one without the other.”

The dynamic between Dick, Roy, and Kori was such that Jason still couldn’t figure out, but it worked for them, so that’s all that mattered. They were happy.

Bruce settled back in his throne and sighed visibly. “I need to think on this. You’re correct in that I could use certain of your skillsets, but there’s still the matter that I do not hire mercenaries, even ones that have clearly been chosen to play on hometown loyalties. You, sir, I assume are from Gotham as well?”

That last question was directed to Jason. He nodded. “Grew up on the docks,” he said, letting his own thick lower Gotham accent come out to play. The syllables rolled off his tongue like they’d never left, despite him now falling into it only when he was utterly livid or pissed drunk.

His answer was also a lie. He’d grown up the son of a whore and a brawler, raised knowing the ins and the outs of the darkest underbelly of Gotham. This was why he and Steph got on as well as they did. They understood each other in ways that none of the others ever could.

“Very well,” Bruce said, returning his attention to Stephanie. “I need to think on your proposal. I will be frank and state that I cannot offer the rates you’re likely used to being paid for your services. If that is a deal breaker, then speak now, and be on your way.”

“We came here thinkin’ that was the case, Highness,” Steph replied, shrugging her shoulders. “The others aren’t exactly pleased about it, but none of us like Lex Luthor, so the chance to stick it up his ass and send him packin’ is always worth it.”

This much was true, although most of their animosity toward the Prince of Metropolis was because of Biz and what had been done to him by Luthor’s hands. The man was a genius, there was no arguing that, sadly, but he was also a sadist that needed to be sent the deepest pits of hell.

“For that sentiment alone, I should welcome you, but for now, you may take your leave. You have rooms in the city?”

Steph nodded. “At _the Sleepy Gull_.”

“I will send a messenger by dusk tomorrow with my decision. Good day.” Bruce nodded, dismissing them.

Jason and Stephanie bowed their heads again and turned smartly back toward the double doors, their red cloaks flowing behind them.

“That went well,” Steph said, her voice pitched low, before they reached the door.

“As well as could be expected,” Jason replied, also low so that their conversation didn’t carry. “Let’s just get outta here.”

The door opened as they approached, and they stopped short as an older nobleman entered the great hall. White-haired and thickly moustached, Jason would know James Gordon anywhere. The Lord Marshal of Gotham was Bruce’s right hand man, wielding almost as much power in the court as Princess Talia. He’d also been his first mentor and taught him how to use the sword sitting on the other side of the door.

It was the same sword he’d left Gotham with a decade ago. The sheath was different, but the pommel and hilt remained unchanged. Had he noticed? Very little escaped the old man’s gaze.

Jason’s heart beat faster as he and Steph parted to let the man pass between them.

Lord Gordon eyed Stephanie and then Jason as he walked by, seemingly dismissing them before he stopped short and turned back to Jason, giving him a second once over. “Pardon me, son, but you seem awfully familiar. Have we met?”

Goddammit.


End file.
